


Family of Blood and Choice

by harrypotteristherapy, PenguinLoki



Series: Agápe verse [3]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-19 05:51:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2377142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harrypotteristherapy/pseuds/harrypotteristherapy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenguinLoki/pseuds/PenguinLoki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Family comes in all shapes, sizes, and degrees of obnoxious. These are some of theirs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family of Blood and Choice

**Author's Note:**

> Updates are moved to Sunday! (shhh, it's still Sunday in Oregon). Well. Probably. These past two weeks have been crazy as PenguinLoki had to move states, and Knitink had health problems we're not even going to get into. Also: procrastination. (Mostly procrastination.) 
> 
> So! This is an assortment of one shots within an assortment of oneshots. This fic will be updated whenever we get to it, with stories centering around interaction with OT3 and children of different origins. 
> 
> As always, you can find us both on Tumblr. Harrypotteristherapy can be found as knitink, and PenguinLoki has no creativity and is the same for both. Please feel free to follow us online or around our towns, we don't mind. 
> 
> Disclaimer: To find out if we own anything, simply enter your credit card information below.

She is the most beautiful thing Aramis has seen in his entire life, and he has spent a lifetime mentally cataloging anything and everything he finds beautiful. From the way Porthos turns to smile at him after making a joke just to make sure he was paying attention, to the looks Athos sometimes sends them when he thinks no one is paying attention, to the way his sisters’ faces light up when he comes to visit unexpectedly.

They are all gorgeous and all completely eclipsed by the tiny bundle in his arms. Everything about her squished and wrinkled face is beautiful even though she does resemble a cross between an alien and an old man.

Newborns are not attractive and he could not find her more perfect if he tried.

Alex is an exhausted and sweaty mess on the bed, looking so damn smug with herself, that she managed to survive this ordeal and finally has her own body back. Athos is muttering something to her while Porthos tries to explain something to one of the nurses (possibly who they all are, and won’t that be a conversation) while she nods along earnestly. Aramis can’t hear what exactly any of them are saying with all of his focus solely on his daughter.

Her hair, currently tucked up into a ridiculous looking hospital issued hat, is so incredibly dark and falls in short and silky curls all over her perfectly shaped head. Her eyes are closed, but he remembers the dark brown of them so clearly from when she first looked at him that he thinks the image will stay with him until he dies, a subtle reminder in the back of his head of her existence no matter where or what he is doing. She doesn’t look exactly like a mash up of his and Alex’s features, as he’d halfway been expecting, and the result is that she looks like Angelica and nothing could be better than that.

Genetics (and his own ego, he’ll admit to himself) say that she will be completely stunning when she starts to look like a human, but every fiber of his being is already screaming that there is no way she could possibly be improved, as perfect as she is.

“ _Hello, little one,_ ” he whispers to her in Spanish. “ _I am your padre. And I am going to love you more than anyone ever will, no matter what those two idiots over there tell you._ ” The nurse laughs, apparently understanding more Spanish than his fiances. He flashes a grin at her, and Porthos rolls his eyes.

“If you’re already poisoning her against us, you will sleep outside,” Athos warns.

“ _Slander, that is all he says,_ ” Aramis continues. “ _Your dad is just jealous that I will be your favorite._ ”

“ _Behave, Aramis_ ,” Alex scolds him. “ _Or I will steal Porthos from you and the two of us will ride into the sunset with that baby._ ”

“ _Your mom is crazy if she thinks she could steal you_ or _Porthos from me_ ,” Aramis whispers to Angelica. The poor nurse looks as though she’s not breathing in an attempt not to laugh.

“Your mom is crazy if she thinks she could handle Porthos,” Athos mutters, apparently understanding enough of the sentence to piece together what they were talking about.

Aramis ignores the ensuing argument, focusing once again on Angelica. She’s awake now, warm brown eyes staring intently at him from under her thin lashes. He grins at her and she looks at him in what looks like confusion. This whole being alive thing must be so strange to her.

“You’re hoggin’ that baby,” Porthos says, suddenly beside him.

“She is the greatest thing I will ever create.”

Alex bursts into laughter, staring at Aramis in a look somewhere between amusement and guilt, a look he himself is every familiar with giving. “I’m sorry, it’s the pain meds,” she said shaking her head rapidly. “But my first thought was that she was certainly in the top five things I accidentally created while drunk.”

“Don’t listen to her, sweetheart,” Porthos whispers, leaning down so he can press a gentle kiss to the top of her hat covered head. “I’ve been drinkin’ with her, and you’re certainly number one.”

“ _Mon Dieu_ ,” Athos mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose in mock horror. A fond smile is tugging at the corners of his mouth, though, and Aramis grins at the sight. “ _Nous sommes des parents._ ”

“Okay, are the two of you just going to refuse to speak English now?” Porthos asks, grinning despite himself.

“ _Oui_ ,” Athos replies.

“ _English is an ugly and confusing language, so it is only right of us to teach you three of them at once so that you may wreak havoc upon your future teachers._ ” Porthos lightly socks Aramis in the arm for his answer, delivered entirely to Angelica, and then laughs at his look of mock hurt.

“Angelica Nicolette d’Herblay, huh?”

“Now an actual, breathing person.”

“Who looks like she’s gonna start crying,” Porthos points out. Sure enough, the little bundle of joy lets out a sound that is the exact opposite of joy in every sense of the word. Regardless, Aramis pulls her closer to his chest, gently rocking her and singing a lullaby in muted Spanish.

After several verses she calms down again, seemingly done with whatever was bothering her, and is instead mesmerised by the sight of Porthos standing beside them. The look Porthos gave her in return made Aramis’s heart clench, and with only some regret he handed her off to his fiance.

His arms feel oddly empty without her warm weight in them, but it’s a non issue when he sees the look of wonder spreading over Porthos’s face as he holds his daughter for the first time. She looks even smaller when he holds her, practically disappearing in his arms and still staring at him in fascination.

Aramis knows the feeling, as Athos has pointed out that he had the same look on his face when he met Porthos.

Athos, as if drawn by a mental link, walks over to them to gaze at the now center of their universe. He stands on the other side of Porthos and Angelica, bracketing them in, and Aramis could not possibly think up a better image than this one. His little family together and completely safe with their surroundings. Athos presses a kiss to the side of Porthos’s neck and continues to watch Angelica, his eyes oddly bright, and Aramis grins all the wider for having seen the exchange.

Alex is talking to the nurse now, and Aramis hears her mention his name followed by the sounds of a pen being clicked. Probably, they’re just filling out paperwork, though if he’s being honest, she could be signing away the entirety of his bank account at the moment, and he wouldn’t be able to care about it.

Athos mutters something softly in French again, and watches with his equivalent of a grin as Angelica yawns widely and turns her head towards Porthos’s arm, possibly to block out light, possibly because she knows to love him already.

“Treville texted,” Athos says softly. “I think he was trying to tell me that he would be here in a few hours, but it’s anyone’s guess.”

“Better get some sleep then,” Porthos says to their daughter. “That way you can be nice and awake when your grandpa gets here.”

“ _You’re his first grandchild and you will be spoiled beyond measure,_ ” Aramis promises solemnly. Angelica yawns again in response and shuts her eyes, leaving the three of them to lapse into silence as they watch her sleep.

Maybe when she’s older and they’ve had a few more sleepless nights, the sight of her simply breathing won’t seem as completely magical as it does now. Aramis does assume that seeing her asleep will always be a treat, though, as he does have vague memories of his parents looking on in relief when his younger sisters finally went down for a nap.

For now he has the two great loves of his life, the center of his world, and a promise that more of her family will slowly make their way to her as time passed. Treville is on his way, Constance would be there in the morning with a brand new blanket made just for Angelica, and Flea promised to come see the new baby as soon as they were home with her.  Aramis touched the cross around his neck in thanks, and smiled at his daughter. He had everything he could possibly need.


End file.
